


Take Your Fill of Me

by silverfoxflower



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Double Penetration in Two Holes, F/F, F/M, Face-Sitting, First Time, Genderbending, Light Dom/sub, Multi, Pegging, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 09:35:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26849779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverfoxflower/pseuds/silverfoxflower
Summary: Written for Kinktober day 5 (DP in two holes) and the prompt:Jaskier gets hit with some sort of curse or spell or whatnot and ends up with a female body. Geralt takes him to Yennefer to see if she can fix the issue. Probably yes, but they also all end up fucking somehow. Geralt and Jaskier can be established or a new thing (although I'm always a sucker for the emotions of first times), and Yennefer and Jaskier have never been involved before. Yen and Geralt, in their canon or not, have had sex before.But they show him a *very* good time with his new body-- Yennefer and Geralt work together to spend a *long* time taking him apart until he's an overstimulated, fucked-out mess who has more than experienced the wonders of multiple orgasms. I'd love to see Yen using some of her (magical or not) sex toys on him-- a strap-on especially would be lovely.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 18
Kudos: 271





	Take Your Fill of Me

"Surprisingly ... appealing," Yennefer said slowly, walking a slow circle around Jaskier. “At least moreso than usual.” 

"Great, thanks," Jaskier scowled, folding his arms around his bare breasts. After the initial novelty wore off, he had quickly begun to despise his new body. His breasts, though on the smaller side, were pendulous and distracting, especially when running. His carefully curated wardrobe was now less than bespoke, and he could hardly play a set without men yelling comments about his tits. But most of all: "I miss my prick!" he wailed. He might have stomped his foot as well, but it should be understandable in the circumstances. 

Yennefer smiled. "Perhaps you have learned a lesson about seducing the lovers of mages?" 

There was an implicit threat in there, but Jaskier just could not put his finger on it. "Can you fix me or not, witch?" 

"Perhaps," Yennefer said, taking another slow circle. This time, Jaskier was sure, just to stare at his pert bottom and vulnerable back. He twisted around to let her know he was aware of her machinations. "Perhaps I’ll wait until the end of the month. So you can bleed." 

"I don't know what you mean by that but I don't like it," Jaskier said, looking imploringly at Geralt. He had not ordered him from the room when Yennefer told him to undress because they were all men here. But perhaps he should have. Geralt was clearly struggling not to stare at his bare body. 

Of course. Jaskier had offered himself up on a platter so many times during their acquaintance, but now that he had _tits_ -

"Yennefer, please," Geralt said, walking forward to place a hand at her shoulder. 

"Hmm," Yennefer turned in his arms, whispering something in Geralt's ear as she drew him down into a kiss. 

Jaskier glanced away, a little wriggle of jealousy in his stomach. He had long accepted, as Geralt’s friend, that he would have to support him making terrible choices in life. Yen was but one of them. 

Jaskier looked up when he heard Geralt sigh deeply. 

“Really?” he asked Yennefer pointedly. “This is not another of your games?” 

“You should be thankful I offer my services so cheaply,” Yennefer said with a serene smile. “As I know you have not the coin for the brothels in this town.” 

“Since when do your services come cheap?” Jaskier asked suspiciously, his mind refusing to address the implications of _brothel_.

“Never,” Yennefer said, clearly enjoying Jaskier’s distress. “And that should worry you, Bard.” 

\--

She painted symbols on him in black and green, the cold paste making Jaskier yelp and flinch until Yennefer stilled him with a glare. 

“How do you like this body, Bard?” Yennefer asked conversationally. In this position, they were almost intimate, her hair brushing against his face and shoulders as she made precise touches to her work. He was nude in her bed and she straddled him, her calves warm against the sides of his thighs. 

With any other lady … Jaskier sighed shortly. 

Yennefer smelled completely different to how Geralt described in his drunken ramblings. To Jaskier, she smelled of cloves and lavender, dark and feminine, invoking memories that made his head spin. “I would think one of your lusty disposition has been taking … ample advantage,” Yennefer continued.

Jaskier scowled, turning away from the view of Yennefer’s cleavage. “I find it not to my taste. It’s easier with a prick to … to … enjoy the pleasures of flesh.” 

Yennefer snorted, the bed squeaking as she raised back to a sitting position. “I pity your lovers.” 

Jaskier gaped, wounded. “I resent that implication! Pleasuring a lady is much different than pleasuring oneself as … with a quim. There- all the angles are wrong!” 

Yennefer tilted her head, looking at Jaskier lazily with her violet eyes. She was, as always, painfully beautiful, in naught but a long black robe which laced at the front and pooled over Jaskier’s bare legs as light as a whisper. 

“You are more hopeless than I thought,” she said mournfully, running her nails across Jaskier’s bared ribs and making him shiver. “You know that for this spell to take, you must climax. Climax so many times that your body opens to the command to be broken and unbroken.” Yennefer’s voice was silky and deep, making a sudden heat flush over Jaskier’s body. It was too dangerous to acknowledge his attraction to Yennefer so he decided to ignore it. 

“I can make myself climax,” Jaskier said defiantly, pushing away Yennefer’s hands, though it had begun to feel a bit pleasurable, between the ticklishness. 

“Show me then,” Yennefer said, slinging her leg across Jaskier’s body and sliding off the bed, walking to where Geralt was standing in the corner with his arms folded across his chest. Jaskier wanted to ask if Geralt _had_ to be here for this, then remembered that he was the one who had insisted that Geralt attend to the spell, in the case that Yennefer suddenly turned murderous like the incident with the Djinn. Geralt was doing his best to pretend like he was not there at all, staring at the ceiling as if the secrets of the universe were hidden between the tile cracks. 

Jaskier thumped his head against the bed pillows with a huff, closing his eyes and thinking of … the Countess du Stael, her swan-like neck and the spill of her dark hair over the pillows. Priscilla, her pink, clever mouth and sparkling eyes. The bountiful breasts of his favorite whore in Oxenfurt. Any of these fantasies would have been sufficient to finish him had he a prick to take hold of, but his … cunt was perplexing. His dry fingers burned against the delicate flesh as he attempted to frig himself, not able to get more than a knuckle inside. 

“It’s painful to watch, truly.” 

“No one is forcing you to watch,” Jaskier mumbled, flopping over to his front for a different angle. This time, he hitched his ass up, pressing his burning face against the cool pillow as he rubbed the slick lips of his cunt with the flat of his fingers. It felt … better. Like something warm building in the bottom of his stomach. There was also a strange vulnerability to the position. Jaskier imagined how he looked to Yennefer and Geralt - legs splayed open inartfully, quim slick and swollen like a bitch in heat. He started to make small sounds in the pillow, hitching his hips against his hand. 

“Better, pet,” Yennefer walked forward, pressing her cool hand against his brow. Jaskier didn’t realize that tears had leaked from the corners of his eyes until she wiped one away with the pad of her thumb. “But you’re not quite there, are you?” 

Jaskier shook his head, leaning into Yennefer’s touch until she took it away. 

“What do you need?” She asked. 

“I need your help,” Jaskier mumbled, his face burning.

\--

“I’m not here to _touch_ you,” Yennefer said, when Jaskier flopped over on the bed, opening his arms expectantly. “You’ll have to earn that.” 

“You and I have very different definitions of _help_ ,” Jaskier scowled, though in truth he wasn’t quite prepared to make love to Yennefer. The thought was as terrifying as that of making love to a storm. 

“Since you are so eager to admit your incompetence,” Yennefer sat on the corner of the bed, curling her feet under herself. “I believe Geralt would volunteer.” 

Jaskier’s heart stuttered, and he glanced up to catch Geralt’s eye. Geralt seemed equally surprised at Yennefer’s ask, though his gaze as he looked over Jaskier’s body was … not unappreciative. Jaskier felt a knot of something complicated and painful settle in his stomach even as a pleasurable heat seeped through his body. 

“Why not?” Jaskier said weakly, shifting backwards until his bare back pressed against the headboard as Geralt approached the foot of the bed. My, it was crowded with three. “What are best friends for? No different than rubbing ointment on saddle sores-”

“Jaskier,” Geralt muttered as he stripped off his shirt. “Shut up.” 

“A quim,” Yennefer said instructively, “As many things, blossoms under patience and diligence.” She held up a finger. “We do not grab directly at it like a child grabbing at sweets.” 

“I know that much,” Jaskier scoffed.

“What would you do with one of your lovers?” Yennefer lifted a brow. “Would you pry open her legs and stick your grubby fingers in her cunt without a by-your-leave?” 

“I would not!” Jaskier said hotly. “Unless she asked me to, of course ...” 

“Tell me.” 

“Well,” Jaskier said shakily, his gaze flickering to Geralt, who was leaning against a bedpost, lazily watching the proceedings. He was still wearing his pants, and the bulge at the front hinted at his interest. “I woo her, of course, with odes to her beauty-” 

“I’m falling asleep,” Yennefer said, inspecting her nail beds. 

“I would kiss her,” Jaskier scowled in Yennefer’s direction. “Sweet kisses. Filthy kisses. Nibble at the sensitive part of her neck, her ears.” Saying these things to Yennefer and Geralt’s rapt attention was making Jaskier’s cut throb hotly. He pressed his thighs together, his hands squeezing under his knees. “Then I would help the dear lady out of her dress and lavish great attention upon her breasts.” 

“Would you like that?” Yennefer’s voice dipped to syrupy sweet and Jaskier swallowed as Geralt began to crawl up the bed, until he was close enough that Jaskier could feel Geralt’s breath on his lips. “No kisses,” Yennefer said, “He’ll have to earn that as well.” 

Jaskier bit down on his bottom lip as Geralt quirked a rueful smile at him as if to say, _what can you do?_ , and leaned forward to press a soft kiss against the curve of Jaskier’s jaw. His hands, large and warm, cupped Jaskier’s shoulders as he sucked Jaskier’s earlobe into his mouth. 

Just these small touches and Jaskier felt as if his body would set itself aflame. His fingers twisted in the bedsheets, his thighs opening to admit Geralt’s bulk, his bare calves brushing against the rough material of Geralt’s pants. 

“ _Breathe_ ,” Yennefer said, and Jaskier released the breath he didn’t realize he was holding in a low moan as Geralt moved his attentions downwards. 

This new body had a narrower chest, and perky breasts shaped like dollops of cream. Jaskier arched his back, making small, embarrassing noises as Geralt weighed them in his hands, brushing his thumbs over the berry-dark nipples.

“To your liking?” Jaskier meant the question to sound sarcastic, but it sounded shakily earnest to his ears. 

“I’ll miss them when they’re gone,” Geralt said, and fastened his mouth over the nipple of Jaskier’s left breast. 

“What next?” Yennefer prompted conversationally. 

“I would …” Jaskier struggled to remain coherent as Geralt’s mouth switched to the other breast, his fingers returning to pinch at the abandoned nipple. “I would a-ask to lick her quim.” 

“Hmm,” Geralt said, pulling off of Jaskier’s breast and kissing his way down Jaskier’s trembling abdomen to the slick, swollen mound that wept for his attention. 

Jaskier yerked so hard at the first touch of Geralt’s tongue on his cunt that he banged the back of his head against the headboard. He moaned, in equal parts pain and pleasure as Geralt began with light, teasing flicks over his clit, then sliding the thick of his tongue lower, laving the flat of it between Jaskier’s cunt lips until he felt himself open, aching and hot and needy. 

“Oh,” Yennefer laughed, reaching to sift her fingers through Jaskier’s sweaty locks. “He’s quite good, isn’t he? I trained him myself.” 

Jaskier had a variety of answers at the ready, but they were clogged in his throat as he trembled. So this is how it felt from the other side … the ache of his clit, the heat, the _pressure_ spreading from his cunt, radiating outwards. Geralt, indeed, was commendable at the practice. He ate Jaskier out like he was _hungry_ for it, until Jaskier was grinding his pelvis against Geralt’s mouth (“Pull his hair, he likes that.”), thighs trembling and gasping into an airless room. 

If climaxing with a prick felt like a breaking dam, climaxing with a quim felt like slipping off the edge of a waterfall. First, the feeling of weightlessness, followed by the shock of the body hitting the water, pleasure rippling from his core through his entire body until he was shuddering like a plucked lute string. 

Jaskier slumped bonelessly against the wall, panting and thinking of all the lyrics to bawdy songs he would have to correct now. 

“It’s done?” Geralt asked, pulling back and wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. Perhaps it was Jaskier’s imagination, but he sounded a bit disappointed. 

“Oh no,” Yennefer curled up against Jaskier’s side, running one finger along his collarbone, and across the symbol she’d drawn on his chest. Though sweat was running rivlets down his body, the paste did not smear. “This is just the beginning.” 

\--

“Don’t be ingracious,” Yennefer said, pushing Jaskier’s head down on Geralt’s lap. 

If Jaskier was a little overeager in reaching for the buttons on Geralt’s fly, he could hardly be blamed. He had been waiting for this for years, after all. 

Geralt’s cock was thick, with a bulbous head and a throbbing vein up the shaft. Jaskier cursed that his mouth was too small to take it all, drooling around the ache in his jaw as he worked to show Geralt what he had been missing all those cold, lonely nights on the road. 

Geralt appeared to be responding, his breathing becoming heavier and his fingers twisting in Jaskier’s hair, just short of shoving himself down Jaskier’s throat.

The thought made his cunt pulse. 

So absorbed was Jaskier with the weight and taste of Geralt’s cock on his tongue that he lost track of Yennefer, and let out a muffled yelp of surprise when he felt her slim fingers rubbing over the moist, swollen opening of his cunt. 

“Don’t lose concentration,” Yennefer said, her voice like velvet as she lightly brushed against Jaskier’s aching clit with the pad of her thumb, entering him from behind with two fingers. 

Jaskier pulled off of Geralt’s cock as he arched, panting and pressing his hips back against Yennefer’s hand, trying to get more _sensation_. He cried out sharply as Yennefer slapped him across the ass. 

“Needy,” she said, then pulled him up and tilted his chin to her for a kiss. The angle was awkward, but Jaskier melted for the wet heat of Yennefer’s mouth, her hair which softly brushed over his heated body, the sharp nip she left on his pouting bottom lip. “How selfish of you to leave Geralt wanting while you take your own pleasure.” 

She was holding Jaskier’s back flush to her front, showing off his quivering abdomen, his slick and swollen cunt lips, his nipples bitten hard by Geralt’s teeth. Jaskier felt a flush of embarrassment at Geralt’s hot gaze, though he should have been long accustomed to immodesty by now. “I thought tonight was _about_ my pleasure,” Jaskier said against Yennefer’s lips. 

She chuckled darkly, pinching both of his sore nipples and making him yelp. “You’re a ripe fruit,” she said in his ear, one hand stealing down to rub at his swollen clit. “One squeeze, and your juices run,” Yennefer bit at the back of Jaskier’s neck, the curve of his shoulder as he whined. Her fingers were drenched in his slick, playing Jaskier with slow, teasing circles until he began pushing into her touch, feeling Geralt’s hot stare on every inch of his body. 

It was a wonder the man hadn’t brought himself off. His cock looked hard to the point of pain, laying on the nest of his pubic hair, still shiny with Jaskier’s saliva. But as Yennfer said, Geralt must have been trained well because he put not a single finger on himself. 

Jaskier was no such pet. “Let me come,” he demanded, arching against Yennefer’s body, feeling the points of her nipples drag against his back, the softness of her thighs bracketing his own. “I _need_ -” But when he pressed his hand over hers, to force some _pressure_ on his cunt, she slipped her fingers away and slapped Jaskier’s thigh. The sharp, sudden pain only added to his thwarted arousal, making him shudder with need. 

Jaskier thought he might have been crying. The thought was embarrassing, and he allowed himself to be pushed on his back on the bed, Yennefer straddling him to resume the position they had started in. 

“You’re cheeky,” she said softly, surprisingly gentle as she brushed away his tears with the pad of her thumb. “But I think you’ll find that in my bed, pleasure comes faster when it is not demanded.” 

“Yennefer, don’t be too hard on him,” Geralt said, and Jaskier felt his hand, warm and calloused rubbing Jaskier’s shoulder. “He’s trying his best.” 

Jaskier nodded, trying to look pathetic and Yennefer smiled. It was … surprisingly genuine. Made her look young and lovely. She lowered her face and pressed a kiss onto Jaskier’s hot lips. Tentatively, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, enjoying her warmth, her softness, allowing himself to sink into her alluring scent. 

Then she bit him. Yennefer drew away with a laugh and Jaskier climbed up to a sitting position, feeling bereft as she peeled her body off of his. But the loneliness was momentary as Geralt hauled Jaskier into his lap, back against his chest. 

Geralt was hard where Yennefer was soft, familiar where she was strange. Jaskier sighed, melting into Geralt’s embrace, hearing Geralt groan as Jaskier’s ass rubbed against his still-hard cock. Feeling impish, Jaskier did a bit more wriggling than strictly necessary, until Geralt growled and stilled him with an arm around his waist. 

Yennefer had shed her sheer robe and her breasts were gold and brown and lovely in the firelight, her dark, wavy hair falling over her shoulders as she stepped off the bed. She strapped a thin leather harness around her hips which accentuated the curve of her legs. Jaskier’s eyes widened when he saw the size of the glass implement that she attached to her harness, though it was still smaller than Geralt’s. 

“Don’t tell me you intend to deflower me upon that,” Jaskier said nervously, though his cunt slickened at the thought. 

“You’re far from an innocent, Bard,” Yennefer said indolently, “I’ll wager you’ve received your fair share of cock - flesh and otherwise.” 

Behind him, Geralt made a noise like this was news to him. 

“Not since …” Jaskier said nervously, as Yennefer stepped forward, her glass cock artfully cupped in one dainty hand. “Not in, um, my quim.” 

Yennefer raised one eyebrow. “I have no mind to ravish a quivering maiden. If you will not take this, I know of someone else who would be eager.” 

It was Jaskier’s turn to be surprised. The mental image of Geralt opening his legs, perhaps admitting Yennefer from behind, his flushed face pressed against his forearm as he muffled his cries-

“Whatever your choice, make it quickly,” Yennefer said idly, “We have yet achieved one climax and the night is far from young.” 

\--

Jaskier steadied his hands at the base of Geralt’s cock, distracting himself with the thick, pulsing prick in his mouth, as Yennefer spread Jaskier’s legs from behind, petting his trembling thighs as she lined the glass cock against his quim. 

Before it breached, the head bumped against Jaskier’s cunt lips, a cold kiss. 

“Relax,” Geralt said, petting Jaskier’s side like he was quieting a horse. Jaskier shot him a petulant glare through tears, his eyes widening as Yennefer began pushing inside, his cunt so slick from earlier play that it offered no resistance. 

“Tight,” Yennefer gave a pleased sigh. 

Jaskier felt the stretch deep inside, whining against the cock his mouth. He had been fucked in the ass before, of course, but only a handful of times and it had been frighteningly intense each occasion, requiring much petting and preparation. Being fucked in a cunt was … different. The pleasure felt more liquid, less sharp. 

Geralt was panting, and Jaskier was distantly aware of Yennefer drawing Geralt into a kiss above him, completing the last point of their triangle. She snapped her hips forward, forcing Jaskier’s throat down against Geralt’s cockhead, muffling his cry of shock. 

“I can’t …” Geralt growled, and Yennefer murmured something Jaskier couldn’t hear over the rush of blood in his ears. 

The only warning Jaskier had before Geralt came was an apologetic pet across the shell of his ear. Geralt’s spend, thick and hot, flooded Jaskier’s mouth as Yennefer began fucking his cunt earnest, frigging his clit with the pads of two fingers. 

Jaskier choked on his mouthful as he came for the second time, shaking into pieces around Yennefer’s cock, Geralt’s spend dribbling down his chin, moaning between them. 

\--

“How are you holding up?” Geralt asked, some humor in his voice as Jaskier panted into the mattress. 

Jaskier turned his face, seeing Geralt’s recovered prick, and groaned. “Witcher stamina. I should’ve known.” 

Yennefer, looking no worse for wear but for a light sheen of sweat upon her brow, poured herself a goblet of water from a nearby pitcher. 

Jaskier pushed himself up on one arm, watching her consideringly. “Did you …” he made an empty gesture. 

“So you cannot tell if a lady has taken her pleasure?” Yennefer asked dryly. 

Jaskier scowled. “I just wanted to offer my services, for politeness sake.” 

“How sweet,” Yennefer smirked, sipping slowly from her goblet as she lowered herself to sit on the bed. She ran a finger down the line between Jaskier’s breasts and he rolled onto his back to give her access, thinking briefly of hounds showing their bellies to their masters. He glanced down as Yennefer’s finger paused at the symbol she had earlier smeared on the swell of his lower stomach. “How does it feel?” she asked, idly tracing the curve of the symbol.

“A little warm,” Jaskier said, shifting ticklishly. “Is it working?” 

Yennefer didn’t answer. Handing the half-full goblet to Geralt, she climbed onto the bed and straddled Jaskier’s face. “I think I’ll take that earlier offer,” her voice was sleek and dark, “If you don’t mind.” 

Jaskier swallowed hard. Yennefer’s cunt was a dusky pink flower with a heady perfume. Despite her coolness, she had not been unaffected by their earlier play, and was already slick with arousal. “Well, my Lady, you’ve made the right decision,” Jaskier purred, “The reputation of my gilded tongue isn’t _just_ due to my-” 

Yennefer lowered her cunt onto Jaskier’s face, forestalling further talk. 

Determined to knock that smug smile off of Yennefer’s face, Jaskier went to work, making muffled, slick noises as he lavished Yennefer’s cunt with thorough attention. From her sighs and the shifting of her hips under Jaskier’s hands, it was working well. 

Jaskier stiffened when he felt Geralt’s calloused hands smooth over his spayed thighs. 

Yennefer linked her fingers with Jaskier’s, pulling one of his hands from her ass. “Geralt’s going to give you some attention,” she said, with surprising gentleness, “If anything feels bad, just squeeze.” 

Jaskier nodded, as best as he could, squeezed between Yennefer’s thighs.

There was an arousing vulnerability to being touched by Geralt while all of his other senses were … otherwise preoccupied. As Yennefer rode Jaskier’s tongue with soft moans, he could feel Geralt’s fingers spreading his cunt, teasing his clit with slow, gentle circles that made Jaskier’s hips twitch. When one of Geralt’s thick fingers sank into his heat, Jaskier whimpered, sore but also aroused, needing _more_. 

Yennefer gave a sharp tug to Jaskier’s hair, “Don’t get distracted.” 

Jaskier gave a muffled sound of protest. How could he get distracted when his vision, his senses, the taste on his tongue - was all her? Even as Geralt fucked Jaskier with two, then three slick fingers, Jaskier bent his head to his task, chasing the tremors he could feel building at Yennefer’s core, until she cried out, climaxing so hard that the bed shook. 

Jaskier was so focused on Yennefer’s pleasure that his own came as a surprise, his cunt clenching hard around Geralt’s fingers as he spasmed again and again, his exclamations muffled in the wet of Yennefer’s cunt. 

\--

Jaskier was as limp as a rag doll when Geralt hauled him onto his lap. Jaskier’s face was shiny from Yennefer’s cunt and Geralt seemed hungry to taste it, kissing Jaskier with a sloppy urgency that made Jaskier’s tired body throb once more into arousal. 

In this body, Jaskier felt so much smaller, enfolded in Geralt’s bulk, feeling Geralt’s 

“Let me,” Geralt groaned, and Jaskier felt Geralt’s cock rubbing against the lips of his well-used cunt. 

“ _Please_ ,” Jaskier sobbed, his fingers twisting in Geralt’s hair. He had imagined this moment so many times, Geralt finally succumbing to his charms, desperate for him. He had never imagined it like this. 

Geralt lifted Jaskier like he weighed nothing and suddenly Jaskier was sinking, stretching around Geralt’s hot, thick cock. Jaskier shuddered violently, panting into the crook of Geralt’s shoulder when he finally reached the base. 

Jaskier laughed dryly, linking his ankles behind Geralt’s back. 

Geralt made a strangled, questioning sound. He was breathing harshly, his irises a thin ring of gold around his dialated pupils. Jaskier pushed Geralt’s hair back from his face tenderly, trying not to betray the stab of longing in his gut that made his fingers tremble. 

“I guess maybe this is a little above rubbing oil on saddle sores,” Jaskier said, smiling sadly. What he meant, maybe, was _this is going to change things between us, isn’t it?_

Geralt made a soft sound, pressing his lips against Jaskier’s forehead. 

And hitched his hips upwards in a movement that punched the air from Jaskier’s lungs. Jaskier tightened the grip of his thighs around Geralt’s hips, trying to keep up with his rhythm, the deep thrusts of his cock that made Jaskier crumble with pleasure. Soon, he was gasping into the curve of Geralt’s neck, his fingers digging into the hard muscle of Geralt’s shoulders. 

But something … something was still missing. 

“Y-Yennefer?” Jaskier twisted in Geralt’s arms, groping blearily for the other body in the bed. He found Yennefer’s arm, his hand sliding down to hers and tangling their fingers.

“And here I thought you two needed a moment,” Yennefer said with quiet amusement, but she positioned herself behind Jaskier arms wrapping around his slim waist, her chest pressed against his back. “I suppose you just can’t do anything without me.” 

Jaskier shook his head wordlessly, and Yennefer gripped his hips, directing the movement between him and Geralt and _oh_. 

Jaskier rolled his head back on Yennefer’s shoulder, his eyes fluttering as Yennefer and Geralt shared a playful kiss around him. 

“Try playing with yourself now,” Yennefer said, and Jaskier obeyed, struggling to wedge a hand between his sweat-slick body and Geralt’s, intent on his swollen, throbbing clit, which was so sensitive that his thighs shuddered and tensed at the first brush of his fingers. 

“Tight,” Geralt hissed, his thrusts becoming faster, sloppier. 

“Are you close?” Yennefer breathed in Jaskier’s ear, and he nodded, his body strung tight, legs spayed wide, his poor, abused cunt just waiting for her word. 

Geralt grabbed Jaskier’s chin and pressed his slick tongue into Jaskier’s mouth, kissing him with fervour. 

“Then _come_.” 

\--

Jaskier blinked awake slowly in the pale light of morning. 

He was tangled in rich, perfumed sheets, which was not an unusual manner to awaken, for him. What was unusual was that he was staring at Geralt’s sleeping face. 

Jaskier shot up in bed, immediately groaning in pain as muscles he didn’t even know he had began protesting. Memories returned like a shot, and he yanked up the covers around his waist, giving a crow of joy to find his beloved cock nestled exactly where it belonged, between his legs.

“Is he always so energetic in the mornings?” Yennefer pushed herself up on one elbow, squinting at Jaskier from the other side of Geralt. “Geralt, shut up your Bard.” 

Geralt made a grumbling noise and rolled away from Jaskier, not opening his eyes. 

“It worked!” Jaskier gasped, “I can’t believe it worked!” 

“I find your lack of faith insulting,” Yennefer narrowed her eyes. 

“Hah, your scary face will no longer work on me,” Jaskier said jubilantly, “I know that underneath that witchy exterior is a sweet-” 

Geralt clapped a hand over Jaskier’s mouth and dragged him down into the bed. 

“Obviously, you didn’t tire him out enough last night,” Yennefer said drolly, “Maybe next time we should employ a gag.” 

“Next … time?” Jaskier asked, looking from Geralt to Yennefer. 

“Someone has to keep your prick out of trouble,” Geralt muttered, and Jaskier grinned in reply.

**Author's Note:**

> my [tumblr](https://greyduckgreygoose.tumblr.com/tagged/myfic).


End file.
